A rose in the vase at my table in a Cuban restaurant I visited on Wednesday.

 

 

 

What a week. 

 

The riots in Baltimore brought out the media like a swarm of locusts, desperate to capitalize on the destruction of property. Meanwhile, the fatal injuring of Freddie Gray while in police custody was reduced to a tangential aside as opposed to the actual catalyst.

 

I read about the story from The New York Times, and watched bits from the PBS Newshour, but chose not to delve too much into the coverage. I'm beyond sick of the empty words and hours of repetitious B-roll footage of burning buildings, marching black (and white) faces, and officers in riot gear. Reporters mindlessly aping the "shock" that this is occuring in these here United States- as if they weren't on the scene in Ferguson just last year. It should be painfully obvious that civil unrest, especially in big cities, has happened numerous times in the past. Didn't Gen Xers do this in LA after the Rodney King verdict in the early 90s? And a bunch of Boomers after MLK was assasinated? 

 

Whatever.

 

And like clockwork, a number of "friends" on Facebook took to the usual dismissing, mocking and ridicule of the whole situation. Freddie Gray was deserving, just like Michael Brown, Eric Garner and the other nig... uh, er, thugs who got the judge, jury and executioner all at once. The marchers, protesters, and rioters are all variants of the same filthy anti-cop strain virus, and should all be flushed out. No nuance, no difference, no real discussion. All black and white, no gray, lots of blue. And red, the hot searing red of anger.

 

I don't want to read the "friends'" inane status updates. I feel red when I do, and the shade is very unflattering on me. While red, I've called Joe and asked, "Why do they think they know what it's like for them? I don't pretend to know...". The conversations with my brother, husband and one of my closest friends get nowhere. It's more like a sudden burst of the verbal equivalent of an unending game of ping pong, back and forth, with no winner. Fragmented anger mixed with disbelief lobbed to and fro until we all tire of the routine. Flashes of garish red.

 

There's nothing more to say. And I don't want to hear it, that they, them and those, those nig... those just want to be that way. Oh, but not me, those over there. I'm not like those. I speak right, I've done things right. I'm not those.

 

Red. Scarlet red.

 

Did you know dogwhistles come in meme form nowadays?

 

Blood red.

 

Or just, Black and Blue.

 

Have a good Sunday. 

 

 

About twenty minutes after leaving the graveyard where we laid my father to rest, I stood in line at the nearby Starbucks. It's "my" Starbucks, the one I spent hours studying in during college, where I took part in Bible studies, discussed matters of importance and frivolity with Joscelyne, and of late, just go to get my order and split.

 

When it was my time to order, I got my usual- a venti soy white mocha- along with a frap for my nephew Justin and a chocolate milk for Zoe.  When the friendly barista asked my name, I said, "Larry's Daugter". She repeated it back to me with a slightly quizzical look on her face. 

 

"Yes, 'Larry's daughter' is right. Larry is... was my dad. We just came from burying him. And today, I am... his daughter."

 

The barista immediately began to say she was so sorry for my loss (while looking me directly in the eye, which gave her words sincerity). I thanked her as she set about making the frappucino. A couple of minutes later, a fellow barista brought over my mocha while she finished the frap. Barista 2 turned the cup and read it, then said with a little laugh, "Larry's daughter? Don't you have your own name?". Barista 1 looked horrified and launched into apologies while quietly saying to 2 the circumstances of my unique moniker. 

 

I quickly told 2, who then looked like he was going to be sick, "Look, it's okay, it's okay! I know you didn't know! But today, to answer your question, Larry's daughter is my name. Yes... especially today, it's my name."

 

 

 

Between the Viewing and the Homegoing Service, my dad's funeral lasted four hours. It was the longest memorial I've ever attended. Even by Black Church standards, it way very, very long.

 

As my best friend Gigi's mom Ronnie put it, it was a lot like my dad himself- loud, flashy, and long-winded. Add in full of music, and I'd say Ronnie's description is spot-on.

 

Numerous speakers got in front of the mic to talk about Pastor Larry. The mayor of the city of Linden, Derek Armstead, where my dad lived since his teen years, and where I lived most of my life, presented a plaque to my stepmom, Kathy, proclaiming that day, March 27th, 2015, a citywide day of remembrance of my dad. Pastor friends recalled stories of his work in the NJ district of the Pentecostal Assemblies of the World, of which his church is a part. There were stories of my dad as an organist and music director, his favorite chords on the keyboard and the demand he placed on fellow musicians to strive for the best. Others talked of his skills in coordinating the tri-annual statewide conferences, getting contracts signed with hotel administrators, booking blocks of rooms, and arranging service schedules.

 

There were remarks from a few family members, too. My Uncle Curtis tearfully spoke of how his big brother had modeled leadership, ministry and personally, forgiveness. My cousin John testified how Dad had showed him how he could be a big man and still dress with style (this is very true; both my dad and cousin have a mean shoe collection, and John's scarf game puts mine to shame). John's older sister Velvet read a beautiful poem she wrote for him (I'm a blogger. She is a writer.) My ninety year old great-uncle broke down when he spoke of how he would miss "my favorite nephew". 

 

Many of the speakers offered condolences to Kathy and my grandmother. Far fewer gave a passing refernce to "the children". Only a couple mentioned my brother Joe and me by name.

 

By happenstance, I sat in the third row, behind the rest of the "immediate family". An usher was all too happy to squeeze me into the front row next to my grandmother, but there wouldn't have been enough space for K and Z, so I declined. It somehow felt wholly approriate, though. I sat with K to my right, and Justin... Justin who in the past two and half years lost his mom, moved in with my dad and Kathy, only to have to lose him, too. Yes, I needed to be with my Justin.

 

But in terms of that part of my dad's life, the Pentecostal/Holiness church part, I was seated appropriately, too. 

 

 

I never fit in that world. I was a painfully shy child, so shy that my dad would at times grow angry with me. When his church friends would greet me with a hearty "Praise the Lord!", I'd respond with a simple "hello". I didn't shout, catch the Holy Ghost, or sing with soul. My father remarked I had a soft little singing voice like my mom, more Disney princess than Shirley Caesar.

 

Unlike my charismatic siblings, I darn near faded into the pews. Some of the church people misread my quiet for conceit and made their dislike obvious, but most seemed to plumb forget I even existed. When I attended a statewide conference after graduating from college (I hadn't been to one in about four years at that point), a number of people, despite having met me a number of times while I was growing up), actually said, "Oh my, I didn't know Reverend Larry had two girls!" Yes, I exist. 

 

While I listened to the speakers reminisce at my dad's funeral, so much time was given to his style- his love for a well tailored suit, matching ties and hankies, and embroidered robes. Every title he had ever garnered, from "Pastor", "Doctor", "Elder" (and one he hadn't, "Bishop") was layered atop his name like thick frosting on a cake.

 

As some of the speakers praised Kathy for her endurance and faithfulness in caring for Daddy, I skimmed through the two page long obituary included in the funeral program and noticed Kathy had included his pet name for her, "M.U.W." or "my ultimate woman". Kathy embodies, without a doubt, Dad's ideal. She's beautiful, quite noticeably, still, despite being in her sixties. She's tall, never, and I do mean, never, leaves the house without makeup. She coordinates from the top of her well-stitched and studded hats to the soles of her patent leather high heeled pumps. The daughter of a well known and highly regarded midwestern pastor (and her late husband, who actually was a bishop), Kathy is like P.A.W. royalty. 

 

 

It was clear to so many at that funeral, that she and my father, married fifteen years, were something of a power couple. And as that became more and more clear, so did the realization as to why I always felt like an alien in the orbit of his world. It also clicked in as to why I always felt that my dad didn't like me. Because in so many ways, he didn't.

 

Oh, please don't misunderstand, my father loved me. He worked 16 hour shifts to put me through private school, ferried me to countless doctors appointments, made sure I always had the corrective shoes and glasses I needed. He bragged about my "straight A" grades and the full academic scholarship I was awarded to attend college. He repeatedly said, like my mom, that he didn't have to worry about me. I was like a bit of calm in between the tempests of Joe who dropped out of high school his senior year, and Joscelyne, who graduated on time at 17 but with a six month old.

 

The few times that I deviated from the script he had mentally wrote for me, he lashed out with disapproval. He hated that I switched majors from Education to English. He saw me as a teacher. He just knew I'd be one. Writing? Why? There was no security in that. When I had a few stories published, he never read them. 

 

He didn't understand why I wouldn't "come home" to his church, preferring to attend a nondenominational church for years. He visited and thought it fun, but felt it would be a phase. When I left there and wound up at an Anglican/Episcopal church, with it's liturgy and catholic-lite traditions, he was baffled. I'd try to explain, but my words were pretty much gibberish to him. 

 

My nose ring, cutting my hair, how I dressed... all wrong. My drawings and paintings didn't garner a response, all but one that is. We both loved Langston Hughes and The Beatles, but those conversations quickly fizzled.

 

What is it about me that he didn't like? There's no simple answer, I suppose. Maybe it's everything or nothing, but just saying that makes for a pretty unambitious blog post, so I'll profer my best guess.

 

My dad had a vision, a vision of excellence for his life that was centered on ministry. He saw his small church, the size of a chapel really, through the eyes of that vision, and believed wholeheartedly it would grow to be at least triple that size. He conducted Sunday morning services with (surprisingly) more formality than my Episcopal pastor, as if there were 300 present instead of 30.  He dropped hundreds on suits to look the part of blessed pastor, complete with matching tie clips and cuff links. It was all part of that vision.

 

I once reminded him of the Langston Hughes' poem " Harlem (Dream Deferred)" with a warning. I told him not to let his vision obstruct his view of reality. I felt the vision had gone from "syrupy sweet" to "heavy load". "Don't let it explode, Daddy." He quickly grew angry then defensively dismissed my words.

 

I understood the vision, but didn't see it. I guess I'm not prophetic that way. I didn't fit into it anyway. So maybe it's not that he didn't like me as much as he couldn't totally see me. At some point, I had faded for him, too.

 

 

There were times I feel I did come into focus, namely when I had Zoe. He even preached a sermon about living a "zoe" life, or an abundant life. When he presided over her Dedication, he was brought to tears.

 

The day we buried my Daddy, I came to an uneasy, but solid place about our relationship. He may or may not have liked me, or perhaps, really even knew me, but he loved me. And blessedly, that is far more than enough. 

 

So on March 27th, 2015, while Linden observed, and many mourned, I quietly reveled, and sipped my coffee, knowing I am Larry's daughter.

 

From the GoFundMe page:

 

 

My stepmother, Kathy Parchia Flemming, was by my father's side as he took his last breath on March 21st. It had been ten months and two days since he suffered a massive stroke that left him debilitated, unable to even speak.

 

On the evening of May 19th, 2014, not long before having the stroke, Daddy, the Reverend Joseph Flemming, while at a church function honoring his wife, publicly proclaimed his love for God first, and Kathy, second. It would be the last time she would hear him say he loved her.

 

Despite a valiant fight, Daddy, after numerous surgeries on his skull, brain and other organs, never recovered. His kidneys failed and he began to receive thrice-weekly dialysis, which led to a number of blood transfusions. The tracheotomy that was placed to assist with breathing led to numerous infections, including repeated bouts of pneumonia. He was admitted to many hospitals, rehabilitation centers and a nursing home in at least three different counties in New Jersey.

 

Throughout every step of the way, she was there, meeting with surgeons, doctors, nurses, social workers and administrative staff. There were hours-long phone conversations with health insurance companies and Medicare, topped off with long nights dozing on hard, plastic hospital chairs. She wanted to be by his side. After months of this, I asked her to stay home more. By the fall, the insurance company forced him to be moved to a nursing home ninety miles south of where we live. She would firmly and resolutely shake her head in the negative and say, "Your father needs me".

 

By the time Daddy passed, she had driven thousands of miles, and stress had caused her to lose a considerable amount of weight. Even still, she maintained her duties as co-pastor of Apostolic Outreach Christian Center, a District Elder in New Jersey as part of the Pentecostal Assemblies of the World, Inc., and as a loving daughter, sister, mother, aunt and grandmother. And of course, she did with impeccably applied makeup and killer style. ;-)

 

I'm now asking for help to raise funds for Momma K to go on a getaway. Where will be up to her, although I say someplace warm, sunny and tropical! Just as she exemplified sacrificial love for my Daddy, I'm calling for us to show her love!

 

So far we've raised $675- a far cry from the $3,500 goal. If possible, please donate, even if it's five or ten dollars. It will truly be appreciated.Click here to donate.

 

 

It is in no way hyperbole to call me a superfan of "The Wire". I've watched all sixty episodes twice. I've sat and had long discussions with friends and associates alike on the way the show depicts governmental politics, inner city schools, drugs, unions/ blue collar jobs, Baltimore, and homosexuality. I got a copy of show creator David Simon's "Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets" and watched the entire 1990s NBC "Homicide" series it inspired. "The Wire" also got me on to "Treme", and has led me to becoming a fangirl of its actors. Michael K. Williams as Omar is a revelation; so is his turn as Chalky White in "Boardwalk Empire". I followed Wendell Pierce from Baltimore, down to NOLA and even on up to New York City for Michael J. Fox's shortlived NBC sitcom.

 

And whenever I'd come across a story online about any of "The Wire" cast, I made sure to Tweet it out. A few weeks ago, while going through my RSS feed, I saw a link to a short story on The Root about actor Tray Chaney, and after a quick read, clicked on the little blue birdie. To my surprise, Tray favorited that tweet and then followed me.

 

My day was made. Poot was following me.

 

That would have been that, but... well, I'm me, and I had questions. I know he's a busy dude and all, but feeling emboldened by his follow, I asked him if he'd be down for a "Creatives Space" feature. I have a theory that most creative folks are creative in more than one area, so I love to see painters who write poetry, or poets who play an instrument.

 

"WPGC 95.5 here in Washington DC is the radio station that's been supporting a new single I have called "I Want To". I'm constantly up there for music meetings."

 

 

So far, everyone I've interviewed has confirmed my theory. Tray, who besides being an actor, is also a rapper. He's a talent monster, actually. Let's get to it:

 

 

EOE: Tell me about your childhood. Were you into performing back then? If yes, what type? Acting? Rapping? Dancing?

 

TC: I had a great childhood. It was always me, dad, mom & my sister. I was blessed to have great examples as parents/family life. I was a Hip Hop dancer back in the day. I was winning shows at the Apollo in NYC when I was 8 years old, so yes, entertainment has always been a part of my life.

 

EOE: You are best known for playing the role of Poot on the critically acclaimed HBO show "The Wire". By the way, I am a huge fan. Like many, I discovered "The Wire" after it had wrapped, binging on the series through the DVDs. Thanks to streaming, and HBO's recent HD remastering of the show, there continues to be a great interest in the series. Did you have any idea when you were first cast that you were playing a part in something so huge?

 

TC: I feel I'm speaking for the entire cast when I say we knew we were a part of something special but didn't know it would blow up to be so huge like it is. I'm blessed to say playing the role as Malik "POOT" Carr on "The Wire" for five years without getting killed off was a blessing. To be a part of such a powerful and impactful show is an honor."

 

EOE: Are you anything like Poot? Why or why not?

 

TC: No, I'm nothing like POOT. POOT was a follower and usually got told what to do a lot. Tray Chaney is a leader, father, husband and a provider for my family.  Two totally different people but playing the role was great.

 

EOE: What (if any) life lessons did you learn during your time on "The Wire"?

 

TC: Some of the life lessons I've learned is just to be humble and always try as much as I can to inspire, motivate individuals to be the best they can be. "The Wire" was such a realistic show and it connected with people around the world so I've used the platform to only put out positive energy especially living in a tough world where people want/need motivation more than anything.

 

 

"Knottyland Music Pre-Production studio is where most of the songs you hear like "Dedicated Father", "Attendance", "Live World AIDS Anthem" were created, written & recorded!"

 

 

 

EOE: I've read about how some other "Wire" alum like Wendell Pierce and Sonja Sohn have become active in social improvement programs in the last few years, and was impressed when I learned about your new "#Attendance" music video. Can you share about this?

 

TC: Well, I'm starting to become known for putting out positive initiative songs/videos and "ATTENDANCE" was something I really wanted to make sure our youth connected with. It's basically sharing a message through Hip Hop about how important it is for our youth to always be present in school and take education seriously. I'm fortunate to be an independent artist having freedom to put out messages like this. "Attendance" is actually my 12th video.

 

EOE: What was school like for you as a kid? What kind of student were you? What was your favorite subject?

 

TC: School was sorta rough. I grew up in Forestville, MD, right outside of Washington, DC. I experienced a lot of violence in school, always being bullied and fighting, but I had parents, teachers, and administrators always in my ear giving me great advice. I was fortunate to always turn negatives into positives and I don't regret nothing I've been through. It made me the man I am today. Math was my favorite subject.

 

EOE: How long have you rapped? Do you write your own songs?

 

TC: I've been rapping since [I was] 18 years old, but I really didn't start taking it serious until 2012, a couple years after "The Wire" ended when I actually had time to focus on subject matters and concepts for videos. Yes, I write my own material.

 

EOE: Who are your musical influences?

 

TC: Love Jay-Z , Kanye, Kendrick Lamar, Drake, J. Cole just to name a few. I'm just a huge fan of music whether its Rap, R&B, Rock 'N' Roll.

 

EOE: Obviously with acting, you're playing a part. But does this also occur with your music? Are we getting the real Tray when we listen?

 

TC:Yes, you're getting the real Tray Chaney when you see my videos and hear my music. I've always from day one wanted to express my music in a way of telling the truth. Songs like "Fatherhood" and "Dedicated Father"- this is my real life. Songs like "Attendance", and "Live World AIDS Anthem", I'm really trying to educate people with these messages. So, yes that's me all day. The negativity you hear and see in music these days is not me. I can't lie to the fans as if I'm someone I'm not."

 

EOE: You're a dad. I love the message in your videos "Fatherhood" and "Dedicated Father". How does being a parent influence your music?

 

TC: My son is 8 and I truly feel when he was born in 2006 that's the moment I knew I had to set an example for him as a man. With my music, he is a huge influence because not only am I entertaining but I'm educating as well. I make music that he can listen to and it's still gonna have a sound that's relevant. Malachi is a huge influence.

 

EOE: As if acting and music isn't enough, you're an author, too! Do you sleep? Lol, seriously how do you manage all your projects?

 

TC: Lol well this is what I do for a living, So I have time to manage and balance everything. I never start a project that I can't finish so I take my time with everything from being a musician, author, actor, philanthropist. All my stuff has 100 percent time and effort put into it so it will have an effect.

 

EOE: What's next? Sculpting? Dance? ;-)

 

TC: LOL My wife has actually been showing me how to design because she is a fashion designer! Also, [I] cook so who knows I may have a cook book out soon. LOL

 

"Constantly on the set of my new TV show called "RISE". I play the character 'Kai Finley'. These are some of the camera crew members. The show will premiere in 2015."

 

 

EOE: From stalking, uh er, observing your Instagram, I see you attend Bible study. What role does your faith play in your music?

 

TC: Well I grew up a Jehovah's Witness so I feel being a part of this religion. I'm comfortable with it. [It] does play a role in the positive music I put out.

 

EOE: What are you listening to right now? What are you watching?

 

TC: I love J Cole's album and I'm watching "The Walking Dead" and "Empire". I love those shows.

 

EOE: What advice would you give to the Class of 2015?

 

TC: Put God first and dream, believe and achieve whatever goals you set! It's not easy, but if you work hard and have determination it will happen.

 

EOE: Where do you see yourself in seven years?

 

TC: Seven years....running my company, Chaney Vision Ent., a full service entertainment and media company, and continuing to inspire the world.

 

EOE: Tell me something random about you?

 

TC: I hate when it's dishes in the dishwasher- not even one spoon or fork. I will hurry up and wash it. LOL

 

 

A huge thank you to Tray for this interview. Scroll down to watch his videos for "Attendance", "Dedicated Father" and "Money In My Walk". You calso follow him on Twitter, Instagram or head on over to mrtraychaney.com.